


Teaparty for Two

by Hamyheikki



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: The Animated Series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-07
Updated: 2019-08-07
Packaged: 2020-08-11 05:35:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,484
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20148496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hamyheikki/pseuds/Hamyheikki
Summary: A new patient has been brought into Arkham Asylum.And doctor Leland has an interesting suggestion for one of the regulars.





	Teaparty for Two

Being invited to a doctor’s office outside of the scheduled meeting times was not something patients of Arkham particularly enjoyed. Some poor souls, typically newer residents, might get the impression that having a doctor wanting to meet you when no session had been planned could only mean your treatment was beginning to move on a faster pace. Or that you’d perhaps be relocated to another cell block altogether.

Jervis Tetch knew better. 

Despite his unwanted status as one of the more recent additions to Arkham’s ever growing gallery of rogues, Jervis had spent enough time in the asylum to pick up few important rules of thumb: the food there made you sick, hiding pills would earn you a week of detention. And an additional invite to a doctor’s room rarely, if _ ever _ , bode good for you. It _ could _be a simple case of a prescription needing renewing, of course. But Arkham had a nasty habit of corroding even the most cheerful of inmate’s optimism.

So when the door to his cell was pulled open late at Wednesday evening, it was only his strict upbringing that kept him from sighing out loud. 

“Get up. Doctor Leland wants to see you.” One of the two guards stayed by the door as the other took few steps forward, fitting a pair of cuffs around Jervis’ wrists. An unnecessary act, certainly, but Jervis was not in a mood to argue it tonight. He had been pestered by Ragdoll during the few hours of free-time, and no matter how much one _ should _appreciate any company he’d get these days, the elastic skeleton of a man was not one of Jervis’ personal favorites. He felt tired, drained even, and having to cut his comforting reading short for a visit to Dr. Leland was definitely not the way he’d wanted to spent his evening. But alas, beggars can’t be choosers. And so, with a quick sorrowful glance at the opened book resting alone on his bed, he turned to follow the guards outside, settling into a stroll between them. The taller man was merely nudging him along with his hand, but the other, a new fellow for all Jervis knew, was throwing worried looks in his way. One of the gloved hands was planted firmly on a handle of his baton, fingers curling around it. Small twitching from the man’s part made the journey through the asylum’s hallways slightly unsettling, given how every time they made a turn, the young lad would basically jump when Jervis brushed against him (the corridors weren’t too wide to begin with, much less so when three men attempted to walk in them side by side). It was starting to tick Jervis’ nerves in wrong way, but he managed to keep his expression calm. 

No use of alarming the man, least he turn out to be one of the more trigger-happy newcomers. 

The walk didn’t take them very long, despite them needing to stop few times when another inmate would cross paths with them. Croc seemed to be once again taken into the custody, as was mister Wesker and his doll. Both of the criminals were lead past Jervis and his own little parade, and neither of them paid him much attention. Not that Jervis minded terribly. Mister Jones had always been bit of a loner, and Wesker’s company, while a minor improvement when one compared it to other options at hand, was not something Jervis actively seeked out. So as they passed, he gave them a courteous nod of acknowledgement, but left it at that. 

And since he was now getting rather close to the far too familiar looking office door down the line, his mind forgot about them soon enough.

They stopped, a firm grip of Jervis’ arms remaining while they adjusted their stance. Before either of the guards had a chance to knock, a light voice called out from inside.

“Come right in!”

With one final nudge against his back, Jervis was escorted into the colorless, sparsely decorated room with a large table, two chairs and a bookcase. The case had, understandably, drawn in Jervis’ attention during his first visits to the doctor. Since then he had come to realize that the shelves were filled what seemed to be purely academical volumes from years past, and thin notebooks containing some of Dr. Leland’s own markings. Nothing of this he found particularly interesting, so now his eyes fell immediately to the young woman sitting behind the desk, couple of files spread out on the cover of it.

Without raising her eyes from the papers, the doctor addressed the two men still hovering behind Jervis’ back. “Thank you. You may leave us for now.” 

It wasn’t really a command, more of a request, but the guards obeyed it silently. Few more suspicious glares were aimed at the man seated in the empty chair. Jervis ignored them with a practiced ease, instead choosing to summon up a smile for the woman sitting across from him.

“Doctor Leland. A pleasure, as always,” he said, allowing his body to relax a bit once the armed men shut the door behind themselves. “A surprising one, I must admit, but a pleasure nonetheless.”

The files on the table were brushed aside once the doctor had taken a final look at the papers. “Good day to you, Jervis. I’m happy to see you in such a good mood.”

_ First name basis today. _  
_ ~Curiouser and curiouser~ _ _  
_The good doctor was after something here.

Before he could answer, Dr. Leland spoke again, this time lifting her gaze from the table to meet his. “Apologies, this all came about very suddenly, and I am not able to wait until your scheduled session next week to bring the matter up.” 

Without seemingly doing so, Jervis took notice of the way her fingers were laced together. Her knuckles were turning white from the tense pose, and yet the smile remained. Momentarily forgetting him, the doctor’s eyes darted down towards the files. It almost looked like she was tempted to open them up again.

Her rigid posture never slumped forward.

_ Something relatively easy for me to do then, but unsettling enough to cause her worry. _

_ Interesting. _

Keeping his smile nonchalant, he let out a silent hum. “And what might the matter be, if the poor Hatter is permitted to inquire?” As the doctor herself had said, he _ was _in a rather good spirits now that they were alone, so a little lilt of flimsy in his tone came out with the words. “Surely you wouldn’t have me brought over merely for a friendly chat?” 

Despite their relationship hardly being in the state one would call outright ‘friendly’, Jervis was aware of the light he was mostly seen in the asylum. An easy inmate. Good-natured, and rarely if ever violent. During their past meetings, doctor Leland had even said he was one of the few patients she actually enjoyed conversing with. Of course, it had most likely been a trick of a clever mind, a simple remark meant to make him feel like there was a deeper level of trust between them than logic might suggest. To make him more eager to share information with her. 

Well, no matter! It was hardly a topic for the present. At the moment he was much more intrigued by the nervous doctor in front of him, but as the silence went on, a seed of doubt settled itself inside his chest.

“... Do I dare to ask if this has something to do with me, personally?” he said, unable to keep the slightly worried edge away from his voice. He couldn’t see _ how _ he’d have upsettled the authorities, considering he had done little besides staying in his cell during his latest imprisonment. “ ~ _ I wonder if I’ve been changed in the night? Let me think: was I the same when I got up this morning?~ _“

His quotation snapped Dr. Leland out of her thoughts. Immediately she sat up straight, cleared her throat and cut him off before he could go on.

“Uh, nothing of the sorts, no need to worry.” Eyes on the files, _ again_. “That being said, the topic of which I wish to speak over with you today _ has _some effects on your person, so in a way, you are not completely off the track.”

Her a tad too wide smile did not bring much comfort to Jervis.

“... Is it my treatment plan? Changes, new medication -”

“No, not at the moment,” the doctor said, and failed to continue.

Normally Jervis was all for playing a casual game of cat and mouse with the staff of the asylum. But given how _ he _preferred to claim the role of the cat, this current guessing game did not catch his fancy. His light mood was beginning to turn sour. He corrected his posture, and tugged the corners of his mouth to a tense grin.

“Doctor, despite how much I _ enjoy _ our little get-togethers, I do wish you’d just come out with it. How am I to determine my stance here, when you refuse to tell me what we are discussing about? _ ~__And what an ignorant little girl she’ll think me for asking! No, it’ll never do to ask: perhaps I shall see it written up somewhere~” _

Now, the last quote was intentional jab at the doctor, he could admit that much. He was growing restless, for the longer the conversation took, the more likely it was that this was all just a donkey’s bridge to lead him into a mental trap of her doing. Although it would be a rather overly complicated way of trying to coax him into talking...

“We have a new patient coming in as we speak.”

_ Oh. _

Well, that would certainly explain the tension he had noticed among the guards as of late. There always was a bit of buzzing going on whenever a new inmate was brought in, and the state of calm that usually settled over Arkham once the routines were established, seemed to shatter few days before the actual introduction. Jervis hadn’t had a chance to talk about his observations with other rogues (most of them were out at the moment anyway), but on his own, he had taken notice. And judging from the strained look on dr. Leland’s face, this most recent resident came with a set of problems. Some of which she apparently wanted to talk with him today.

Not that it made any more sense to him, honestly. For the life of him, Jervis couldn’t see how he’d have anything to do with a transfer, or the inmate themselves for that matter. He wasn’t like his dear March Hare, the _ ‘Fear Incarnate’, _ who had formed several alliances over his years in Gotham. Jervis was, as much as he loathed to admit it, new to the game. So it was unlikely he’d know whoever had been unfortunate enough to be sentenced to Arkham. As as for the off-chance it _ was _someone he was familiar it, why would he be summoned here, to talk about...

“What _ are _we talking about here, doctor?”

Might as well stop dancing around the subject.

Doctor Leland sighed. Her hand rose up, fingers pinching the bridge of her nose as she rubbed the tension away with slow movements.

“We are having difficulties settling him in.”

Jervis raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Clearing her throat, the doctor hurried to continue, “Nothing major, but while he’s been staying at the guarantee cell, there has been some... property damage.”

Reassuring opener. Jervis managed to keep his expression in check despite the way his heart picked up speed. “How unfortunate!” Albeit one could argue this was to be expected from an Arkham inmate. “However, I fail to see why it requires _ me _to have an additional appointment with you in the midst of all this.” 

He was tempted to point out the illogicality of the doctor spending her time with _ him _ when there obviously was a bigger problem at hand. But then again, bringing up inconsistencies was not something he was known for (unlike his _ other _friend, one in a green suit). Quite the opposite, in fact. So he remained content, even leaned back in his chair slightly.

There was a frown forming, but quickly as ever, Leland pulled out a smirk. “You are here because I have a suggestion for you,” she said with a low tone. Now reaching over to the papers, she pulled one out and slid it across the table to him. “See for yourself.”

It was a personal profile. The picture taped to the inner cover confirmed that much, with a signed transfer note attached right under it. Pages upon pages of small print. Details, data, recorded history of the previous stays in various research and imprisonment facilities. 

Jervis never got to read all of it. 

His attention was focused on the picture of a man.

A presumably dead man.

“Solomon Grundy.”

It was not a question, merely a stated fact. Despite never meeting Grundy face to face, and his current status as a prisoned rogue, Jervis was familiar with the man’s reputation. You’d have to live under a literal rock in Gotham if you failed to recognize the villain’s face. He had been all over the news just a few months ago after a run-in with Batman, if memory serves. Although apart from general information span around by the journalists, not much had been said of the plans for the sizable half-dead, now certified immortal. There had been some rumors about genetic testing outside of Gotham City, but it seemed those arrangements had fallen flat. After months of silence, having the man show up in Arkham, of all places...

Another cough from the doctor jerked Jervis back to the present. Slowly lowering the file on the desk, he leaned away as if to distance himself from the woman behind it.

“A clarification, if you’d be so kind, doctor?”

There was no real bite in his words, but he couldn’t help the move his hand made towards his head; to tug down his non-existing hat to partly cover his eyes (he did so wish they’d allow him to keep the head-wear during his stays. After all, Mr. Wesker got to keep his puppet...). Opposite to him, the doctor noticed his tensing state, and lifted a hand to pull the file back to herself. 

“There is no need to grow agitated, Jervis. What I am about to propose is nothing mandatory for you to follow along with, and rest assured, should you refuse there will be no consequences whatsoever.” Papers safely put away, she faced his gaze with a calm smile. “Of course, if you _ do _agree to cooperate, there are perks we could grant to you as a bonus.”

Tempting. Alarmingly so. If his time in Gotham had taught Jervis anything, it was that promises such as this were often too good to be true. There was always a catch. Nothing worth having came for free, at least not to him.

And yet...

“What _ is _your request, doctor?”

A brief smile passed over Leland’s lips. 

“I would like you to spend some time with Mr. Gold.”

Jervis could feel his eyes widening as his posture faltered on the chair. 

“I... _ Pardon?_”

“During his present stay in Arkham, Mr. Gold has shown some remarkable progress when it comes to his impulse control.” Here she spun around in her seat, aiming a remote to the small TV planted in the corner of the room. “However, even if he has become able to contain most of his energy when it comes to human interactions, as I said earlier there has been some damage done to inanimate objects. Mostly furniture in his cell.” 

On the screen, a mountain of a man was standing motionless in the middle of an empty room. Well, mostly empty. There was a large bed which seemed to be bolted to the floor, and a pile of torn up books littered all around. The man was not moving. His stance was stable, body not swaying, feet planted firmly on the concrete below.

A grain of worry twisted itself in Jervis’ stomach the longer he watched the giant acting like a statue. “Is everything alright with him? He seems -”

“Unresponsive? Yes, he has been showing this type of behavior as of late. The main reason why it would be helpful to offer an alternative treatment method for him.” Here she looked back at him over the table, the remote shutting the TV off. “There would be security in place,of course. I don’t expect you to be completely without backup, should you accept my offer.”

“But why has Mr. Gold been brought _ here_?” The nagging question had forced its way out before Jervis caught himself. 

The undead was, to his knowledge, not mentally ill per se. For what he understood, there wasn’t enough brain activity going on in the man’s head for him to be able to develop a mental disorder, nor had he been born with one as far as Jervis knew. So why Arkham? Surely a prison or even a research institute would be more appropriate fit. He assumed there were number of scientific fields who’d love to get their hands on a specimen like Grundy.

The doctor sighed. “There has been debates of the matter. One key reason as to why he was assigned to Arkham is because we were the only facility with the equipment and manpower necessary to house a man of Gold’s stature.” Their eye contact was broken by her sideways glance. “And since he is here, I see no reason not to try and help him in some way.”

Her words brought his grin back. _ Ah, to be so young and so idealistic. _Of course the good doctor had set her sights on a goal of a massive sort. It was in her nature to give her every patient the benefit of a doubt. A feature that Jervis himself found very charming, since it allowed him more leeway than other staff members perhaps would. 

“So, if I have understood correctly, you wish me to... _ chat _ with Mr. Gold?” He wasn’t opposed to the idea, necessarily. And if there were perks to be had, well... _ ~It’s very easy to take more than nothing.~ _

Across from him, the doctor nodded. “Basically, yes. We’d hoped that offering Mr. Gold social interactions which differs from patient/doctor conversations would help him develop better people skills in general.” Her gaze dropped slightly. “Or at the very least provide a distraction from his usual solitude.”

Jervis was not a fool. He could see several downfalls within this plan. Things could very easily go wrong when the topic was Arkham and its inmates. Accidents tend to happen, regardless if the guards were present or not.

But even then...

“You wouldn’t happen to have a set date in your mind, would you?”

The relieved slump of the woman’s shoulders didn’t escape his attention. She gifted him a brief smile before fishing out a pen from her desk drawer. “I was thinking of next Thursday. There are some forms I need to fill out, but everything should be in order when we get there.” 

His hand lifting up to tip his phantom hat, Jervis nodded and began to stand up.

“Then it’s settled.”

* * *

It was quite surprising, really. To be pushed into a room so pale and blank.

An achievement of sorts, even within Arkham’s standards.

Standing between two of the guards, Jervis took a look around, already feeling his mouth twist in distaste. The room he had been brought in was not one he had been before. It was a large space for certain, walls high enough to fit a man of Grundy’s stature once he’d arrive (most likely the reason the room was chosen in the first place), but oh, had they managed to make it sore for the eye. It was empty, apart from one piece of furniture, to which his gaze wandered to once he stepped completely inside. It was a simple wooden chair, planted in the middle of the floor. Opposite to it a pair of metal loops poked out from the concrete floor, made of solid steel. He had seen such things back when he was first suffering his sentence in the asylum; they were typically used to restrain the more rampageous inmates by passing a chain through the ring and fastening it to the floor. Jervis himself had never been subjected to that particular treatment, but he had seen it done enough to know how the dance went. 

Just as he was about to voice his thoughts to the gentlemen standing on both sides of him, the chair was pushed towards him, one of the men prompting him to sit down by pressing a heavy hand on his shoulder.

Once he was seated, the man spoke up, “There are three members of the security staff standing by behind the door. Doctor Leland and professor Dale are observing through the glass.” With a wave of his other hand, the guard gestured to the one-way window placed between the room and what Jervis assumed to be a separate space behind it. 

He had been informed beforehand, of course. Doctor Leland had gone over the whole process with him earlier that day, telling him how to handle himself around Mr. Gold. She had assured him that should any problems arise, guards would defuse the situation and ensure his safety. Both inmates would be guided back to their cells, and the experiment would end there. And while Jervis had his doubts about his bodyguards’ reliability, it was reassuring to know he was at least _ offered _ some form of protection. Even if only to give him a peace of mind.

“Thank you, I believe I can take it from here.” He smiled and crossed one of his knees over the other, placing his hands neatly in his lap. Despite not showing it, he was beginning to grow nervous. Not only was this his first meeting with the infamous and ill-tempered immortal, but they were being monitored throughout it all. And should any mistakes be made... Well that simply_ wouldn’t do_. Jervis had plans, plans which required him to make this encounter successful. 

_ “Class S convict coming in! All personnel, stand by!” _

The loud clang of a door being opened startled Jervis, his pose snapping upwards. There, across from him, a metal panel slid up towards the ceiling. From behind it, a pair of legs began to show, followed by a torso (which took up almost the entire length of the doorway), and finally, a head hanging so high the man it belonged to was forced to bent down in half in order for him to fit through. Unlike Jervis, who was wearing the basic outfit of an Arkham patient, the immortal giant was dressed to a large robe, barely long enough to reach his knees. The color matched Jervis’ though, with its blank white shade. 

But the most impressive feat were no doubt the eyes which linked with his immediately. A direct, unblinking gaze made Jervis’ skin crawl, although he made conscious effort to hide it. He had faced worse. He had _ done _ much worse. A mere man, even with his arguably imposing stature, would _ not _throw off Jervis’ composure. 

At least not unless the guards allowed something unsightly to transpire. There was always the possibility, after all.

The floor shook, but didn’t crumple under the feet of the giant as he, prompted on by a guard behind him, stepped properly into the room. Against his better judgement, Jervis held his ground, fingers curling over the edges of his seat. It was truly remarkable to see the man up close. He had to lean back, and still he felt unable to meet the man’s gaze until Grundy too was seated. There was no chair sturdy enough to support a weight of such capacity, and so he simply slumped on the bare floor. As Jervis watched him to stretch out his long legs, he had to admit it _ was _a rather endearing sight. Like a clumsy deer, in a way. 

When he finally managed to balance himself and sit upright, Grundy’s attention turned to him. They weren’t on equal grounds when it came to height, not even when he bigger man was sitting down, but now Jervis was able to answer to the look without spraining his neck in the process.

Before Jervis could utter a word, a large finger rose up. Pointing to his chest.

“...Hat.”

Jervis blinked, surprised. “I beg your pardon?” He threw a careful glance towards the one-way glass. Not that it did him any good, as it was merely his own reflection that stared back at him.

A voice, louder this time around, made him jump in his chair. The accusing finger was still aimed at him, accompanied by a fixed glare.

“_ Hatman_.” Lowering his pointer, Grundy tilted forward. “Hats.”

_ Ah. The man was making a connection. _

Summoning up a welcoming smile (or what he dearly hoped passed as one), Jervis too leaned in. “Why, am I to assume my fame precedes me? Well, I suppose that does save us from the trouble of having to go through proper introductions, doesn’t it?”

A blank look was not the answer he had hoped for. Grundy had, if anything, brought up his finger once more, this time pointing to Jervis’ head instead.

It was mildly unsettling, if he was to be completely honest. But the man wasn’t outright aggressive. Not yet, at least.

“Uhh, may I ask how exactly do you know of me?”

The finger moved to his chest.

“Alright then,” Jervis sighed. Stressing every word individually, he asked, “How - do - you - know - me?” 

The large man thought it over for quite some time. “TV. Grundy... watch lot of TV.”

The news, of course. Well, it was helpful, to have Grundy know at least _ something _about him beforehand. He wouldn’t have to go through every little detail, although Jervis couldn’t be sure how much the man actually understood of the programs he saw on the screen. So far it seemed that his aesthetics, as it were, had hit home with the giant. 

_ But back to the matter at hand. _A common sense prevented Jervis from offering an official handshake, but he did bow while sitting, his right hand landing on his chest. “A pleasure to meet you, mister... Grundy?” He wasn’t exactly sure if the man preferred his ‘alias’, or his former name. The dilemma was solved quickly though, as Solomon spoke out.

“Solomon Grundy. Born on a Monday, christened on Tuesday.”

“Oh, so I have heard.” Becoming more at ease, Jervis felt his grin turn to a more genuine one. “If you wouldn’t mind terribly, I myself would prefer to be called ‘Jervis’, especially between friends.” 

His smile was quick to falter when Solomon nodded, and yet immediately after let out a booming bellow.

“Hatman!”

With a shake of his head, Jervis tutted, trying again with a slower pace. It had worked wonders just a minute ago. “No, not quite. _ Jervis_. Jervis Tetch.”

“... Juurvis.”

“Ah, no. It’s -” He was cut off by Grundy once more, the man now pointing again. 

“Jarvis!”

Jervis sighed. “Jervis - Tetch.” He clapped his hand on every syllable, mouthing every one of them very deliberately. That appeared to have done the trick, and a wave of relief washed over Jervis as he saw the unblinking eyes widening in understanding. It took some effort to communicate, but in the end, he was certain they could find a common melody amongst themsel --

_ “Jörvis!” _

Jervis was rapidly beginning to feel like an unwilling participant of an endless Caucus-race. 

Perhaps he should do well to take his victories where he could find them. _ Small as they may be. _After all, they only had a limited amount of Time for this meeting, it would be ill-wise to waste it. And correcting the man was promising to take up a rather big chunk of it if he wasn’t careful.

So, with a silent sigh he hoped didn’t carry over to Grundy’s ears, he sat up and smiled wide. “Tell you what, my dear? I believe I can live with that.”

It was promising to be an awkward session at first. The initial greetings aside, the two men could not have been more at odds with each other, and not only physically. For Grundy, Jervis’ elaborate way with words made it difficult to hold up a conversation. Hatter noticed, how could he not, but it proved to be a challenge to consciously change his style of speech. And as for Jervis, despite him getting more confident the longer they spent in the room together, the other man’s size did strike a spike of intimidation in his chest. To have a man of Grundy’s stature sitting so close, with a pair of hands strong enough to break even a heftier fellow in half. Who could _ really _blame him from flinching every now and then when Grundy made a sudden move to his direction? But they managed. Little by little, both of them calmed down. Conversation, a bit stuttering from time to time, gingerly moved onward, and soon enough they were having a discussion about their respectable stays inside the walls of Arkham.

It was oddly charming, the way Grundy seemed almost intrigued by his lack of head-wear. As expected, he did bring it up in his own crude words, and a pointing finger.

“Hat... missing?”

Somewhere along the line Jervis had taken a more comfortable position, back pressed against his chair. “Sadly, yes. I’m afraid the good doctor hasn’t seen it fit to return it to me as of yet.” Before the empty stare could turn into a proper confusion, Jervis hurried on, “I do miss my hat. I feel... upset without it.” 

His wording made Grundy nod furiously, a large hand tapping on his own head. “Missing... Grundy misses too.”

“Your... hat?”

The man shook his head. Spreading his arms, he made a sweeping gesture over the room. “Things. All Grundy’s things.”

The mental image of Grundy’s cell popped into Jervis head. A room filled with nothing aside from a bolted bed. Not that his own was much better, mind you. Patients of the asylum rarely were treated with furniture that weren’t a pure necessity, but most of them had a change to ‘earn back’ their own personal belongings if they behaved well enough. Did Grundy had such an arrangement with his doctors? Was he carrying something when he’d been caught?

It’d be terribly rude to ask. And thus it seemed wiser to simply redirect the topic slightly. Something of a lighter note. While he was at it, why not try and sprinkle in a crumb of the reason why he’d agreed to this in the first place.

“Yes, I’ve seen pictures of your current accommodation. Are you allowed outside your cell at all?” Jervis asked, tilting his head to the side. “It’d seem more than a bit cruel if not.” Here, he tossed a quick glance to the one-way glass, and the supposed doctors behind it. “A man of your size, surely you’d require more room to move than most?”

Grundy didn’t seem to notice that his interlocutor had his focus elsewhere. He had enough troubles trying to decipher what the man had actually _ said_. Eventually he let out a hum, the palm of his hand coming to press against his cheek. 

“No. Grundy in cell all the time. No moving.”

Now, wasn’t that an interesting fact. 

Outwards, Jervis turned his eyes back to his new friend behind bars, and allowed his smirk to widen into a proper grin, rivaling that of a Cheshire Cat’s.

“Oh, I am sure there is something that can be done about that!”

The rest of the conversation followed more common rules of socializing; sharing personal interests, trying to find a common ground, and silently bonding over the fact that neither one of them actually wanted to be in the facility they were currently locked in. Of course, the last bit was never said out loud. Walls had ears (literally), but the sentiment was made clear the longer they talked.

When it came time for them to head back to their respectable cells, Jervis gave a polite bow as the other man was escorted out of the room before him. A rough wave of a hand rose to answer his gesture. After the door leading to the deeper parts of the asylum had slipped closed, a pair of guards came in to walk him out too.

As they nudged him further away from the empty room, Jervis took a last glance over his shoulder, his tone cheery as he quoted to himself.

_ “~ Thank you, sir, for your interesting story. ~” _

_ Ah, the future seemed brighter already. _


End file.
